


Like salt, like sugar

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Fate/Slutty Meme Magus [9]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sugar, moron x moron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: A little salt, a little sugar. The perfect dessert."Fairies" are unpredictable in ways they've always been predictable. Though maybe that's Merlin's only excuse.





	Like salt, like sugar

Twelve. Though he didn’t need to look for more empty spots on her head- there were plenty- he’d gotten up to twelve flowers in her afro while she carefully selected teams for their future battles without her saying a word to him. He was beginning to wonder if she was just letting it happen, or even that she’d gotten so used to his company that it didn’t matter to her. Both ideas were intriguing. 

Maybe she was simply in a good mood because she’d slept well. He’d made a habit of eating her nightmares (there were so many that he found himself constantly fed well) and maybe that was the reason. Regardless, she didn’t shoo him off or cleverly remind him that he was being awfully affectionate to not have a favorite human. It was good, too. He kept pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind. This is simply a mutually beneficial relationship, after all; if he ate her nightmares, she would perform better in the morning, and humanity’s future would be assured. Simple math. 

“I always prepare for Archers to give us trouble,” she said aloud, though it was mostly to herself, not to him. “So I usually send out the Lancers first, especially because of Cu’s natural disposition to scaring off whatever enemy faces him-”

“That _ is _ the way of the knights of Ulster,” Merlin agreed.

“More like _ his _. Do you know how he died? That shit was bananas,” she half-muttered, swiping on her keypad. “Mm...Emiya is good cover fire, but I usually have Bedivere cover defensive holes that Mash can’t fill…”

“Am I in this lineup?” He mused, sticking out his tongue just a little bit as he fit a smaller flower in between two bigger ones.

“Mm. In the back. I need you to use that buff spell when we start. It usually helps with morale, too…” Her finger tapped the screen impatiently. “I have room for one more person in this lineup. Who do you suggest?”

“Hmmm.” He _ sounded _ like he was thinking, but he’d already prepared an answer. “I would suggest the great pharaoh to help with morale, or the young Iskandar. They’ve a habit of riling everyone up, don’t they?”

“Oh, true…” She adjusted the team to fit one of them. “...but I don’t think Alex’s horse likes me.”

He paused. This was not something he expected to hear, and found himself stifling a laugh. “Oh? Have you done something to offend him?”

“Maybe?” She turned her head a little bit, and Merlin hastily made sure none of the flowers fell free of her hair. “Or maybe it’s that I don’t...like horses too much?”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line.

“Don’t! Say anything!” 

He had been prepared to ask if she was _ afraid _ of horses, but she’d basically revealed it herself. Obedient, he refrained from speaking on it for a while, carefully placing two more flowers in her hair. Fourteen. “...my. That’s a lot.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Maybe he could fit twenty?

“What are you doing back there?” She asked suddenly, though her tone was rather jovial. “If you messed up my hair, or did something you thought was _ funny _ to it-”

He knew the boundary for his pranks, and it boiled down to ‘don’t ruin her hair or suffer dire consequences’ so he quickly said, “How unkind! Have faith in me, Master!”

She made a sound like someone who wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Smart of her. In fact, she turned to look at him then, her eyes flashing with a guarded sense of suspicion that he found comical. “Merlin….”

He raised his hands, showing they were empty. “See? Nothing!”

Her eyes narrowed, and he found himself trying not to laugh. Instead, he said, “Have you finished your plans, then?”

Ifumi’s eyes flashed. This was clearly a distraction, a something to get her suspicions off of him about anything or any pranks he might pull, but she seemed uninterested about probing for the issue. “...no. I have one more lineup. And I always make backup substitutions. Usually I ask Bedivere or Waver about them, but you’re pretty good at this, so your ears are good, too.”

This pleased him, some. Finally putting his strengths to work, multitasking and multitasking! “Marvellous! What’s next?” He’d get to twenty in no time.

* * *

“Oh, are you here for coffee?”

Merlin had been bothering Roman, hence flitting about the common room in such a mysterious manner. The good doctor never got enough sleep, you see, so he thought it would be fun to goad him into taking a nap instead of another cup- and it had worked, as Merlin’s powers of annoyance always worked on him. That meant there was a full pot waiting for Ifumi when she entered, scribbling something on a sheet of paper as she did. Maybe more tactical plans.

Despite the flowers he’d put in her hair, she looked tired- or maybe weary was the best way to describe it. When she registered what he was saying to her, she looked up at him. “You’re in here this time?” She gave him a charming smile and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you stalking me?”

He thought that had a certain amount of comedic value, given she’d called him her ‘favorite Servant’ in her sleep two nights before. “Mm...maybe.” He shrugged at her, which earned a smile, then gestured to still-hot carafe. “It’s fresh~! You just missed our favorite doctor.”

“Aw,” she half-lamented, though she reached for the pot instead of a cup, which struck him with a strange sense of foreboding. Interesting. 

“Ah-ta-ta,” he chided. “I’ll get your cup, hm? It’s the least I can do, blocking your way to the counter.” 

Of course he had ulterior motives. Who would he be without them?

After taking one of the miscellaneous cups from off of the counter, he filled it with coffee, as long as she was watching him. The moment she looked away, though- to check her notes, or more likely, the chatter from the hallway from Servants asking where she’d been for breakfast- he quickly poured salt into the cup instead of sugar, added some milk, and then stirred it. “Finished~!”

“Thank you…” She sighed, her eyebrows furrowing as she took the cup. Unfortunately, she took a look at his expression before she did. “...you…”

“Hm?” He blinked, innocent. He was very good at concealing any emotions he might have- they weren’t very _ loud _, so to speak- but he found it curious that she searched for even the slight twitch of his lip to betray him (and, irritatingly, nearly almost found it). He wouldn’t allow that.

There was that suspicious look again. Really, she was too much fun, sometimes. “...nothing, I guess.” She turned away from him then, and he waited expectantly as she took a very large gulp of the concoction with her back to him.

Now, anyone with half a brain could imagine what would happen, but Merlin felt his personal clairvoyance was _ best _ used in situations such as this; in times of great stress or turmoil, humans were prone to being incredibly unpredictable (which itself was predictable), and there was no accounting for how Ifumi would react to such a prank. He’d narrowed it down to three different outcomes, each with their own specific consequences, though all of them involved him leaving the room as quickly as possible, which he intended to do, right about-

Her jaw went slack and the contents of her mouth dropped back into the cup with the quietest sound of water running; after a pause, Merlin smiled ever-so just as she set the cup down and slowly turned to face him.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, her cheeks slightly poked out like a chipmunk as she studied him, her posture coiled to attack.

“Is something wrong, Master?” He asked amicably. “Are you, perhaps, feeling a little-”

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered, and he saw an irritated smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his hands pressed together as he became a statue as serene as a saint and patient as a monk. He _ had _ to. It was too good not to say. “ _ Salty _?”

He took off in a sprint down the hallway just before she could put her hands on him.

* * *

“...Master? Is there something ...”

Though the Lancer is rather hesitant when it comes to expressing his feelings, she can hear the grimace in his voice when he speaks, as though he’s treading even lighter about something. When Ifumi glances up, Diarmuid is looking at her rather curiously, and then at the top of her head. “Hm? What is it, Dia?”

“...mm. Well,” he begins, glancing from her eyes up to the top of her head. “Excuse me, Master, but is there...a festival, going on?”

“What? No, I don’t think so?” She stood up straight, to her full height, adjusting the books on her person that she’d taken from the library and Roman’s study on tactical advantage and Caster ascensions. 

Seemingly at a loss for what to say, exactly, the Lancer’s eyebrows furrowed just slightly before he gestured to her hair. “Then are you preparing for a special occasion?”

“...special-” She reaches up, and then hesitates. “Can you hand me a mirror, Lancer?”

Quickly and dutifully, he sprints to the closest mirror he can find, a hand mirror near the miscellaneous boxes of supplies for the staff, and hands it to her. 

“Thanks, Dia,” she smiles, then looks into it. 

Her lips part. Dozens of flowers are sticking out of her afro, little pink flecks of sparkling sunlight here and there twinkling across her head like a crown. “...oh.” How funny. Or maybe the proper word is-

She smiles. “It’s just a gift. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss any special occasions or anything.”

He seems rather relieved by that, which makes her laugh. “I’m glad. Do you need me for anything, Master?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Rest, some. When we gear up for battle, you’re in my lineup this time around, so be prepared, okay?”

“Yes!” He nods. She still thinks it’s a little disarming that he’s such an upstanding knight, but doesn’t say so. Besides, he’s definitely one of the less overbearing Servants to be around, so she doesn’t mind it.

She wishes the mirror wasn’t so kind to her. Oh, if she didn’t have to take them out eventually! Maybe she should take a picture. Wouldn’t that be transparent, though? But flowers only lasted so long-

“Boo!”

The ‘eep’ that escapes her startles some of the looser flowers out of her hair and disappoints her, especially when she knows it’s Merlin behind her, probably back to tease her about something. Maybe it’s the flowers he put there. “You…!” She begins, and then, calmer, “You scared some of the flowers out.”

He begins to say something, but her remark stops him. “So you noticed them.”

“I did.” She admits. “They look beautiful.”

A soft smile graces his features. She wonders if this one is genuine, or if he’s simply delighted at his own work. “Don’t they~?”

“I’m not praising you, I’m praising myself,” she corrects him. “They’re as pretty as I am.”

“As pretty as you…” He muses. “Maybe, maybe. Do you want more?”

“How many are in there?”

“Hmm…” He seems to be counting the ones that have fallen to the floor. “I got up to twenty-eight, but then I got bored! There’s maybe fourteen left.”

“Oh, wow. I’m just a walking rose bush, huh?” She waits for him to correct her about what kind of flowers they are, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches over and moves some of them around until he’s satisfied. “...a perfectionist.”

“Oh, always,” he agrees, then repeats, “Would you like me to put in more?”

“I’d rather you put less salt in my coffee than more flowers in my hair,” she told him carefully, which earned the most gleeful of smiles.

“A clever way of putting it, to be sure… Mm...well, I promise not to put _ salt _ in your coffee anymore,” he told her carefully, and she sighed rather deeply. It was clear what he meant by it. 

“If you try the same kind of prank twice, I’ll start doubting how creative you really are.” 

“I never said I was creative,” he shrugged, as though to defend himself. But she could tell it bruised him some; his lip curled just a little bit at being told such a thing, what with being the man who’d found a way out of his tower without leaving it, who’d given Bedivere a counterfeit arm strong enough to kill a god, and the same man who’d somehow been catfishing a certain doctor as an internet idol. “Mm...you smell like summer nights!” He exclaimed suddenly. “What an improvement! The coffee smell was getting a little old, older than you, even.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s like telling me I smell like a construction worker because I’m a working woman!” Funny. Summer nights...what a familiar smell to describe.

“Don’t working women like to feel beautiful?" He asked smartly. "Or are you working too hard to have fun?”

Ifumi looked up at him then, taking in his benign expression and the slight tilt of his head as he looked at her, eyes twinkling as he saw _ something _ that made her want to look away. But she wouldn’t. She didn’t. Instead, she said, “...I guess we do.”

Pleased, his features softened into a smile- relief?- that she wasn’t altogether accustomed to. “I’m glad! Now then, have you eaten yet? I can always put more flowers in your hair while you’re doing something else~!”

She laughed, despite herself. “I probably need to. You just sound like you want to set a record or something.”

He pouted. “Is that so wrong of me?”

“No. But I get to put things in your hair next.”

“Oh...I suppose I should have seen that coming,” he concedes. “Ah, well... Balance keeps the world turning, doesn’t it?”

“Mm,” she nodded, though she didn’t care about how he rationalized it. What a peculiar thing to think about. Was Merlin here to balance _ her _, then? Funny. Too funny. “Sure does.”


End file.
